


Comfort

by ButWhatIfImagines



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Comfort, Cunnilingus, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Light Angst, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-01 13:30:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15775059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButWhatIfImagines/pseuds/ButWhatIfImagines
Summary: A prompt fill from our Overwatch imagines blog; you and McCree are a new couple, and you're used to being yelled at for making small mistakes. You make a mess while cleaning up, and McCree comforts you.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _*nervously pokes fingers together* I tried looking but the rules wouldn't load so if this not allowed, please just delete, k? Can I maybe get an imagine with a female reader x McCree where they are a new couple but she is used to getting yelled at for every little thing she does wrong like spilling water, sitting on the remote and changing tv station or breaking a glass cup on accident. Can he comfort her & calm her down? I deal with that so much and was hoping I could read a imagine for comfort_
> 
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> 
> Originally posted to our Overwatch imagines blog on tumblr.

Sundays were lazy days. You loved sleeping in, and cuddling with Jesse while the sun rose and lit up the bedroom with its hazy glow.

But today wasn’t Sunday—today was Saturday. And Saturdays were for chores. Or at least that’s what the two of you had decided. You usually kept things pretty tidy as you went along, but it was still good to mop and dust once in a while.

Jesse had very kindly offered to handle the dusting in the living room—you were grateful. You always ended up sneezing and coughing, no matter what you did. In return, you had offered to mop the kitchen floor. He thanked you profusely—mopping reminded him a bit too much of latrine duty from his early days in Blackwatch.

The two of you put on some music while you worked—it helped make the tasks feel less tedious.

You were singing along to the lyrics, hips shaking as you mopped to the beat. As the tempo picked up, so did you, spinning around as you heard Jesse joining in on your karaoke session from the other room.

The sound of his voice carrying over the warm breeze that drifted through the rooms made your heart happy. As the song reached its crescendo, you spun around in a flourish. Your mop struck the pail, and with a gasp and a splash, the bucket upturned and dashed murky water all over the freshly-mopped floor.

In an instant, your vision narrowed and your body went rigid. The back of your neck was suddenly blazing hot. Jesse must have understood that something was off, because you heard his footsteps approaching the kitchen.  _Oh no…_

You panicked, trying to think of what you could do to rectify the situation, but your mind had run away with itself, fear freezing your muscles.

“Well now, that’s one way to wash the floor,” Jesse laughed from the doorway, observing the situation. You waited for the other shoe to drop—for his voice to turn dark and raise several octaves.

He seemed to notice something wasn’t quite right. How could he not? You were stood there, mop clutched so tightly in your fists that your knuckles were white. His brow furrowed, and you mistook his concern for anger, and flinched as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Hey, now,” he chuckled. “What’s the matter, sweetheart? You look like you’re waitin’ for me to give you a what-for.” He had said it jovially, all smiles and relaxed posture, trying to ease the unexpected tension.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, nearly frantic. “I’m sorry, I’ll clean it up.” Your voice was unusually reedy, and even though you willed your body to move and get some paper towels or something to start cleaning up the mess, you couldn’t.

Jesse’s frown deepened, and he took a step towards you. You flinched backward, shoulders jerking as you squeezed your eyes shut— _oh, here it comes_ —

A beat passed, and he called your name. The sound of his voice was so gentle, it made your heart hurt. You opened your eyes again to look at him.

“Can I come over there?”

Your fingers flexed around the handle of the mop, and you swallowed around the hard lump in your throat. “Please don’t yell at me…” you croaked. The sound of your voice was so small, and though you didn’t cry, it was a near thing.

Jesse clasped his hands together. “I promise I won’t yell at you, sugar plum. Now, can I come over there, please?”

You squeezed the mop again, then nodded, still unable to let go of the fear that a verbal thrashing was in your immediate future. But to your surprise, he didn’t yell at you, or even raise his voice. He only closed the distance between you, and wrapped you up in a gentle embrace.

“It’s alright, sweet pea,” he said, warm hands drawing along the plane of your back. He might not have understood why you had panicked, or thought he was going to yell at you. But he certainly understood that you were tilted, and he wasn’t about to let that stand.

You let him hold you for a moment, the warmth of his body encompassing you. He smelled like smoke, and sandalwood. The earthiness of it grounded you, and the soft sound of his voice coaxed your mind back from the brink of panic.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled again, voice quivering. He took a step back as he hushed you.

“You’re alright, sweet pea,” he assured you, taking your face in his hands to leave a lingering kiss on your forehead. “I ain’t troubled about a bit of spilled water. I don’t rightly know what’s got you all out of sorts, but accidents happen. It’s no big deal.”

You nodded, head bowing in shame.

“Hey now,” he said again, nudging your chin up so you would look at him. “You doin’ alright there?” Those affectionate, brown eyes searched yours, and despite that quiet tickle of anxiety in the back of your throat, you felt yourself relaxing.

“Yeah,” you admitted finally. After a beat, you bit your lip. “Thank you… for not yelling at me. And helping me calm down,” you hastily added.

He smiled warmly, taking your hand to give you a comforting squeeze. “Don’t mention it. Why don’t we get this cleaned up, and then we’ll make some lunch. You look like you could use a break.”

You sighed deeply, resting your forehead against his shoulder. He responded in kind, putting his arms around you again. One hand rested on the nape of your neck, and he slowly rocked you to and fro. As the last of the tension drained from your limbs, you gave him a lingering squeeze.

That sounded really nice. “Okay.”

“Alright. Let’s get goin’, then—my socks are wet, and I ain’t never met a man who enjoyed soggy feet.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Jesse finish tidying up after your little mishap in the kitchen. Even though the cowboy suggested lunch, it didn’t quite seem like it was food that he was after…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _That McCree fic got me weak in a good way, the cleaning one with reader afraid of yelling. Can we get a NSFW continuation of that?_
> 
> Cross-posted to our Overwatch imagines blog on tumblr.

You helped Jesse mop up the mess from the floor, and he disappeared briefly to dispose of his wet socks.

When he came back, he regarded you thoughtfully. A beat passed, and he caught you around the waist, pulling you into a slow dance. You giggled as you placed one hand on his shoulder. The other clasped his free hand as he swayed the two of you across the kitchen floor.

He watched you with fond affection, pressing soft kisses over your cheeks and forehead. You let him do it for a minute, letting a pleasant warmth seep into your body. It settled in your core, then spread out over your skin.

Some minutes passed, and the song you were swaying to ended. Resting your cheek against his chest, you sighed. “What would you like for lunch?”

He hummed thoughtfully, raking his fingers through your hair. “Are _you_ hungry, sweet pea?”

“Not really,” you admitted. You had both eaten only about an hour or so earlier, and it had been a hearty breakfast of eggs, waffles, and some bacon. “I don’t mind to make you something, though,” you added.

Jesse tipped your face up to kiss you. He started slow, with light, teasing pecks that left you searching for more. When he finally deepened his kisses, you were already weak in the knees. Warmth settled low in your belly, and you clung to him.

When he leaned back to regard you, his smile took on a devilish curve. The fingers of his free hand dug into the small of your back, and you swallowed. He looked _hungry_ , but not the way you had meant. He pinned you against the wall—wait, when did you get here?—nudging a thigh between your legs.

Your heart raced, and heat flared between your thighs as you cleared your throat. “I guess you’re not hungry, either,” you murmured, since he hadn’t actually answered you.

Jesse hummed. “Oh, I’m hungry, all right.” The way he looked at you made you _weak_ , but you pretended he wasn’t trying to make a double entendre.

“Do you know what you want to eat?”

Jesse took a step back, hands resting on the curve of your hips. His eyes traveled appraisingly up and down your body. “I might… are you on the menu?”

You clenched, barely biting back your whimper. “Is… is that what you want?”

Jesse laughed, clearly delighted that he’d flustered you so badly. “Wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t,” he replied thoughtfully. “So, how about it, sweetheart? You mind lettin’ me have a taste?”

His fingers rested dangerously low on your hip, and you could feel their heat even through your shorts. The image of him between your legs, that skilled mouth working over your body, had you clenching.

“Okay…”

“Okay?” Damn, he wasn’t going to let you off the hook too easily, was he? “You have to say it, sweet pea.” His hands drifted up along your sides, and brushed along the shape of your breasts. “I won’t know what you want if you don’t.”

You swallowed back the sound of your moan as Jesse pushed his thigh up between your legs. Even that light pressure against your groin had you whimpering. You wouldn’t last a hot minute if he went down on you, but _damn_ if you didn’t want him to anyway.

“I want you to use your mouth on me,” you rasped, your breathing already going ragged. The pressure in the back of your skull made you dizzy, and Jesse smiled.

He kissed you, slow and sweet, but that quickly gave way to the kisses of a man nearly starved for it. You could hardly breathe, and thinking had become monosyllabic—when did you get so easy? He’d barely even touched you—

You whined out loud moan as his fingers dipped into your shorts, stroking slowly over the damp fabric of your panties.

“Jesse—” You whimpered his name out like a prayer, clinging to his shoulders to stay upright. He carefully guided you over to the dining room table, easing you up into the smooth wood surface.

Wasting no time, you scrambled to help him peel your shorts and panties off. He laughed good-naturedly as he dropped the soft fabric to the floor. “You excited about somethin’, sweetheart?”

You spread your legs wide, knees bent and feet pressed into the table ledge. You might have been embarrassed about being so eager for him, but it was all you could think about. “Please, Jesse… don’t keep me waiting,” you begged.

He cooed as his calloused fingers drifted up and down along your thighs, nails grazing over sensitive skin. “I won’t keep you waitin’ too long, but a little anticipation is good for us both,” he said, pressing soft kisses against your belly, just below your navel.

You tipped your head back with a low whine, anxious energy coursing through your body alongside pleasure. You _wanted_ him to give you what he promised, and now he was teasing you. Still, as frustrating as it was having to _wait_ , it felt good to be so wanted. He touched you with a kind of reverence that always made you feel a little weak in the knees—good thing you weren’t standing anymore. You’d have been a puddle on the floor.

His kisses drew down your belly, over your groin and the length of your thighs to your knees, and then back again. As he moved closer to your core, you couldn’t help but clench in anticipation. He could tell the flex of your muscles, and glanced up at you with a smug expression.

You rested back on your elbows, watching him with hooded eyes. He was _so close_ … He smirked—he could read you too well. He flicked his tongue along the crease of your groin, leaving suckling kisses at the innermost part of your thigh. Oh, he was _really_ dragging it out.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t keep me waiting too long,” you whined, and he chuckled against your skin.

“Are you goin’ to beg me for it?” He purred, eyes sharp as he glanced up at you.

You bit your lip, and swallowed. “Please…”

His tongue was warm and slick as it flicked against the hard bud of your clit. Your breath hitched, and that seemed to be all he needed. He buried himself in between your thighs, languid strokes of his tongue drawing from clit to perineum and back. You cursed, grabbing at his hair, thighs squeezing around his head.

“Oh, my _God_ ,” you whined, fingers digging into his scalp. You tried to catch your breath, chasing after the air you so badly needed, but it never seemed to be enough. You cried his name, pleasure coursing out over your nerves. He hummed as he suckled on the oversensitive bundle of nerves, your back arching as you fell back into the table.

“That feel good, sweetheart?” He rasped, voice muffled by his actions. You nodded fiercely, resting on one elbow as the other gripped at his hair, holding him in place.

“Yeah,” you whimpered. “It feels so good, Jesse—please don’t stop—” His tongue prodded at your entrance, and then slipped inside. You couldn’t hold back the moan in your throat, loud and salacious. Your legs, slung over his shoulders, tightened around him, your heel digging into his back to draw him closer.

Your eyes were bleary as you watched him, and how lost he was in the bliss of pleasuring you. It made a pleasant warmth bloom out in your chest, heat flaring out from your core. “I’m so close,” you whispered. The soft plea spurred him on, and he redoubled his efforts, alternating between swirling licks and gentle suckling along the length of your folds.

He slipped a single digit inside of you, and you gasped—oh, that would be your undoing—

Curling his finger, he brushed up against the swollen ridge of your sweet spot, and your vision went white. What was once a steady build towards release now had you racing towards it. You swore loudly, and as the tightly-wound coil of your pleasure snapped, your body went rigid.

You gasped and cried, chasing your breaths as he continued working you over, not letting up for even a moment. You pursued the hot pleasure of his mouth, your hips shaking as your thighs closed up around him. Finally, when you could stand the pressure no longer, you pushed at his head, begging him to ease up.

He tapered his movements, slowly withdrawing his finger from you as he sat back. He looked up at you, and while there was certainly a self-satisfied smugness to his expression, there was also gentle affection. He smiled, and pressed a lingering kiss against your belly, then followed up to your mouth.

You tasted the last vestiges of yourself on his tongue, arms and legs wrapped snugly around him, drawing him against you. He put his arms around you in kind, nuzzling your cheek and pressing teasing kisses all over your face.

“You doin’ alright, sweetheart?” He purred, stealing a last few kisses.

You giggled, nudging his nose with your own. “I think I’m doing more than alright,” you sighed, cuddling into the soft fabric of his shirt. “I love you, Jesse.”

He hummed, catching your chin to draw you up into another long, slow kiss. “Love you, too, sweet pea.” He scooped you up in his arms, carting you off towards the bathroom. “Why don’t we go get cleaned up, huh? Think we’re both a little sweaty after that.”

You sighed as you relaxed in his arms. A shower, huh? You weren’t so sure _getting clean_ was actually what he hand in mind.

You didn’t mind one bit.


End file.
